


This Love

by 30degreesandsnowing



Series: Love Story [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff and schmoop, Getting Back Together, M/M, Popstar!Blaine, and some hurt/comfort, famous!seblaine, popstar!sebastian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5367194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30degreesandsnowing/pseuds/30degreesandsnowing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine thought he was more or less over a lot of things, like his brother's betrayal, his mother's disappearing act, and his fairy tale romance with Sebastian Smythe.</p><p>It turns out he was wrong on all counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [readfah_cwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/readfah_cwen/gifts).



> Sequel alert! This can probably not be read without having first read Love Story. I mean, you can try, but you might be confused. Will probably be confused.
> 
> So a long time ago, my beta demanded to know whether or not Marina died in Love Story, since it was a bit ambiguous. Instead of actually answering her, I stared working on a short tag taking place 10 years later for her. Two and a half years, and 20k+ later, this is the result.
> 
> For Rose, I bet you thought I'd forgotten about this.
> 
> And before I forget .... title shamelessly stolen from Taylor Swift. All of Sebastian's songs are stolen from Taylor Swift and tweaked. Anything of Blaine's music belong's to Darren Criss.

After two years away from home, Blaine Anderson did not even remember walking into his house and falling into bed that first night back. Instead, he woke up bleary-eyed and confused the next day, wondering why his alarm had not gone off, and still in the jeans and cardigan he had traveled in. He blinked at the pillows that were smushed against his face, then managed to flip over to stare up at the ceiling. It was white.

"I don't think I got enough sleep," Blaine said aloud, wincing at the rough and ragged sound of his own voice. He groped around until he knocked his phone off the bed and onto the ground, and held in the whine of despair.

When he finally managed to get his phone back from the hardwood floor, he discovered it was mid afternoon on Sunday. He had been asleep for 17 hours. There were also 18 texts and 2 voice mails. Blaine placed his phone on the nightstand without looking at them. He did not have to look at them. After two years of running around like a maniac, he was going to enjoy lying in bed, staring at the (white) ceiling, with nothing to do.

Three minutes into his lie-about, his stomach rumbled. Blaine scrunched up his nose. When it rumbled again, he sighed, crawled out of the down comforter and Egyptian cotton sheets, and made his way into the rest of the house to start the day.

The bedroom he had crashed when he got in from the airport last night was huge, twice as big as the apartment he had rented in New York. Blaine opened up the blackout curtains with a small control panel helpfully labeled 'curtains' and the room was flooded with light from the midafternoon sun. There were a lot of windows, and through them the ocean sprawled out and glittered in the sunshine. He liked it, liked the panoramic view of the coast on three sides, and that he could turn in any direction and look outside. It did mean he had to go down a flight of stairs to wash up and brush his teeth; the entire top floor was an open bedroom and sitting area.

The first floor had another sunny, open floor plan, with tall windows and more white. Blaine wasn't particularly fond of the color, but it did contribute to general air of wholesome cleanliness in the house. Even the kitchen had a full wall of windows and opened up to a patio.

Though he had owned the place for over a year, Blaine had never stepped foot in the house. He had bought it based on pictures and the recommendation of some friends after he had moved out of Sebastian's place. He had been in New York, then, and did not have time to return to L.A. to go house hunting. Riley had organized the move, a decorator, and taken care of the details, while Blaine worked 20 hour days onstage and in the recording studio. If Blaine had been here for all that, he probably would have used lots of overstuffed cushions and warm colors, but that might have been a mistake. The entire house reminded him of fresh cotton sheets and summer.

Sebastian would like it, Blaine thought.

There were groceries in the cupboard. Riley must have stocked the kitchen, knowing he would be coming back home. He made himself breakfast on the stove, managed not to burn the French toast, and kept from overcooking his eggs. When he was done eating, he left the dishes in the sink to soak. Then he walked outside and looked around his property: at the beach that surrounded the place, at the patios and outdoor entertainment areas, at the sunset over the water. It was good that this little peninsula was so far from any neighbors or road, because his bedroom was clearly visible from here.

Blaine went back into his house up into the bedroom so he could unpack, but his phone was ringing, and he answered that, instead.

"Hey Riley," Blaine greeted. "I just got up. It's gorgeous here."

"It is," Riley said back. "It makes me wish Meggie didn't want to live so close to the city center. Do you have everything you need, Kiddo? How are you doing?"

Blaine laughed. "I'm not 15," he told Riley. "I don't need to be checked up on and entertained every minute. I'm good. I had dinner, and walked around. I was just going to put some stuff away and then have ice cream."

"28, 15, I'll always worry about you," Riley dismissed his claims. "If you need anything, you give me a call. It's no trouble."

"I'll be fine," Blaine said. "I'll call you in a few days, after I get settled in. Enjoy your night, Riley."

"Goodnight, Devon," Riley said, voice bright with cheer, and hung up.

Blaine slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans, and started putting away his luggage. There was not a lot; he had left most of his things in L.A. when he went to New York, and the majority of the stuff he had accumulated while there had been shipped back and already put away by someone. All that was left were from his carry-on: a few changes of clothes, his tablet, a couple books of poetry. He found Sebastian's picture wrapped safely in a hoodie, and set it up on his bedside table.

It was a little weird, he finally admitted to himself, to be living in a place without Sebastian. His time in New York had been a job, and he had only gone to the apartment to sleep. The rest of his days had been running around crazy, recording, writing, practicing, performing. Broadway was amazing, and it had been nothing short of a dream come true to open a musical, but it had cost him any semblance of a personal life. He had barely noticed Sebastian's absence. Now that he was planning on slowing down, he already felt off.

Blaine thought that Sebastian was in Tokyo, though he might have been wrong. They did not keep in contact very well. Between Sebastian filming two movies and having a world tour in the last 2 years, and Blaine's own schedule, they had not even spoken since the breakup. It was not because of hurt feelings. Probably was not because of hurt feelings. Blaine had not had time to cry, and he was not sure he would have if he did. The breakup had been for the best. Trying to juggle _them_ with their individual careers had been impossible. Once they had realized the toll it was taking on them, it had been easier to let each other go than to let their love get poisoned by distance, missed phone calls, and failed expectations.

Which was why Blaine had this gorgeous new house on the coast, filled with sunshine and warmth, and a successful run on Broadway, 6 of the top 10 songs in America, and an LP that had already broken his previous records in sales. It had been the right move.

"Maybe I'll give you a call when you're back in town," Blaine told the picture. Sebastian was laughing in the frame, his eyes barely visible and his face shining with joy. That had been a good day. "Maybe we can get dinner, or just hang out."

He finished putting away his clothes, dropping yesterday's crumpled cast offs into the hamper, and arranged his accessories on the dresser. He kicked the now-empty bags behind a sofa, and considered the cleaning done. It was time for ice cream.

Ice cream would have been a lot easier to eat if he had an ice cream scoop. Blaine woefully surveyed his cutlery. He had found the spoons, knives, and forks. He had found the butter dish, the cheese grater, and the baster. He had even found candles for a birthday cake. The ice cream scoop was nowhere.

Blaine had his phone out and was calling before he even knew what was happening. "Do you know if you still have my ice cream scoop?"

There was a startled silence on the phone. Then Sebastian said. "I don't know. Let me check?"

Blaine closed his eyes. "Gosh, sorry Bas, I called without thinking. How's Tokyo? I was just going to celebrate the new house with ice cream and -"

"Slow down, Killer," Sebastian interrupted, voice warming. "You're back in L.A.? Welcome home."

Blaine relaxed once Sebastian started speaking, and sat down at the island. "I just got in yesterday," he confirmed. "I woke up a couple hours ago. When do you come in?"

It was weird that he had caught Sebastian. He had become so used to getting the other man's voicemail; it felt like a luxury to have a conversation.

"I'm back already, actually. I came back last week." There was a shuffling, clattering sound from the phone. "I don't know if I have _your_ ice cream scoop, but I have _an_ ice cream scoop."

"I thought you came back next week?" Blaine asked. "Did you wrap early?"

"Yep," Sebastian said. "Which is shocking, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm still terrified that I'll get another phone call, asking me to come back."

Blaine giggled. "I know the feeling," he confessed. "I've been avoiding of going through my messages. I'm so sick of running around."

"Yeah," Sebastian said, softer. "Yeah, me too. Listen, how about I come over with the ice cream scoop? You can tell me if it's yours, and I'll bring some champagne. We can celebrate in style."

That sounded - "Wonderful," Blaine said. "That would be wonderful. Do you know where I am?"

Another sound, this time of rustling papers and the distinct thud of a shin on the crossbar of the table - Blaine had bruised his shin an awful lot on that table, when he had lived there - and a muffled curse precluded Sebastian's affirmative. "Yeah, I've got it. I'll be there in about a half hour."

"Drive safe," Blaine instructed.

"Put the ice cream back in the freezer before it melts," Sebastian returned.

Blaine laughed out loud as he hung up, and, because Sebastian was right about the ice cream, returned the carton to the freezer before it melted all over the counter.

* * *

It took Sebastian almost an hour to get arrive, because, as he put it, "You live in the middle of nowhere, Killer."

Blaine grinned up at him, and pulled the other man down into a hug. "It's nice and quiet," he informed his friend, squeezing tight. He could feel Sebastian relax into his arms, and it was good to know that this had not changed. They were still Blaine and Sebastian, Devon and Sebastian. He kissed Sebastian's cheek, and stepped back. "The hope is that no one else will be able to find the place, either. I took a car from the airport yesterday, and the driver took three wrong turns." He took the bottle of champagne from Sebastian, and the ice cream scoop, and walked into the kitchen to set them down. "You look good, Bas."

Sebastian was a little more buff than he remembered, with blond streaks in his hair and a brown leather jacket. He followed after Blaine and shrugged. "Now that filming is done, I can go back to normal exercise and diet. I've been indulging. Anita's going to kill me when she finds out I haven't been to the gym all week."

Blaine giggled. "You can't tell," he assured the man. "Will you get me the ice cream? Since you took the trouble to bring the scoop, I feel immediate ice cream is needed."

Sebastian took the carton from the freezer, and grabbed up the scoop. "Sit down, relax," he advised. "I'll serve. You must be exhausted. When did you get in?"

Blaine took a seat at the island and rested his chin on a fist he propped on the counter. "Yesterday morning," he admitted. "I slept until this afternoon, and I'm still tired. I think I may have overreached myself. I might be too old to do this anymore." 'This' was his work, his side projects, his relentless need to always be working harder. He knew Sebastian knew what he meant.

"You still have the ass of an 18 year old," Sebastian promised, and Blaine laughed again.

It took going through every single cabinet Blaine owned for Sebastian to find the bowls, and Blaine watched with interest. He had already forgotten where they were stored, which he told Sebastian when his friend asked why he was smirking instead of being useful.

"I don't smirk!" Blaine said, indignant. "You smirk. And I just moved here. I have no idea where anything is. There are supposedly three more bedrooms, a library, a music room, and another two bathrooms I haven't found." At Sebastian's raised brow, Blaine defended himself. "I found the library outside. It's in that corner of the house. I just have no idea how to get there."

Sebastian snickered, and crowed triumph as he plunked to bowls down on the counter. "Success," he said. "What is it with your and twisty old buildings you can't find anything in?"

"This place isn't old!" Blaine said. "And there are more windows than walls. It's just going to take some getting used to the layout. I think there's a sunken room on the second floor, and I'm not sure how that's possible." He took the bowl Sebastian offered him, and ate some ice cream.

Sebastian smiled down into the carton of ice cream as he filled the second bowl. "Crazy architecture follows you around," he said. "Tell you what. We'll eat this, get drunk, and then tomorrow we'll figure out what's the deal with your house. Maybe it's haunted."

"My house," Blaine said, eyes narrowed, "is not haunted."

Sebastian put away the ice cream and joined him at the counter with his own bowl. "I bet in the morning we won't be able to find our car keys."

Blaine gestured threateningly at Sebastian with his spoon. "My house," he repeated, "is not haunted."

Sebastian laughed again, and poured the champagne.

A few drinks and a bowl full of ice cream later, Blaine was ready to call it a night. He was drooping over his ice cream, and his eyelids felt like lead. Maybe something heavier. Black holes were really heavy, right?

"Hey there, Killer, let me take that before you end up covered in chocolate," Sebastian said, quiet and sweet while he took away the used bowl and glass.

Blaine watched him, belatedly realizing his first guest was the one doing all the hosting. Then he decided to ignore it, because it was Sebastian. Sebastian was never a guest.

"You aren't my guest," he told the other man, while Sebastian washed the dishes and left them to dry in the rack.

Sebastian looked amused. "Nope," he agreed. "I think you're stuck with me. Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Are you spending the night?" Blaine asked, letting Sebastian help him up and leaning most of his weight against him.

"We have exploring to do tomorrow, right?" Sebastian asked.

Blaine turned into Sebastian's embrace, nodding his agreement against his friend's collarbone, and breathed in the scents of spice and champagne. He tucked himself into Sebastian's arms, and Sebastian cradled him close.

"Is your bedroom at the top of this glass monstrosity?" Sebastian asked.

"Stairs are that way," Blaine said, gesturing vaguely beyond the kitchen, and sighed and cuddled close when Sebastian swept Blaine up into his arms. "This got easier for you. You _have_ been working out."

Sebastian laughed and kissed his forehead. "Are you telling me I struggled to pick you up before? You're about as big as my thumb, Killer."

"Liar," Blaine said. Sebastian took them up the stairs and into the bedroom. Blaine felt safe, and warm, and let himself drift until Sebastian put him on the bed. Then he rolled over, kicked off his shoes and started to fiddle with his jeans.

"Sexy," Sebastian said, but he was toeing off his own shoes and not watching. Blaine knew that. His lips quirked in a smile anyway.

"Are you sleeping here?" Blaine asked. Before they had dated, they had slept in the same bed, and they had shared a bedroom while they were together, but this was a new situation. Things felt like normal, like they were still themselves (Devastation, he thought to himself), but it had been years. They could not just go back.

"Do you have any idea where your clean sheets are?" Sebastian asked, folding his jeans over the back of a chair. He stripped off his shirt and, wow, he had been working out. Sebastian had always been active, but those abs looked sculpted.

Suddenly mute, Blaine shook his head. He kept his own t-shirt on.

Sebastian slid into bed next to him, and got the blankets around them. "Then yes, I'm sleeping here," Sebastian said, and rolled over and went to sleep.

He was not really asleep, of course, but Sebastian liked to put all his energy into everything he did, and that included sleeping. Blaine smiled at his back, and curled closer until he was spooning his friend.

It was the best night's sleep he had in ages.  
 


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things are easy.
> 
> Sometimes things aren't.
> 
> Sebastian, as always, seems to be trying to be everything at once.
> 
> Also, a wild Cooper appears!

Blaine woke up a little before 7, with the sunshine brilliant in his face because they had forgotten to close the curtains. To avoid waking Sebastian, he got out of bed carefully, and then shut the curtains slowly. Sebastian murmured quietly in his sleep, and rolled into the warm spot Blaine had left behind. Blaine smiled down at him, tucked the blankets about him, and left a sticky note on the pillow asking for Sebastian to join Blaine for breakfast when he woke. Blaine pulled sweats on over his briefs and crept downstairs to the kitchen.

He brought the notepad with him. Yesterday they had spent an awful lot of time wandering around the kitchen, trying to find things, and today, he was going to fix that.

Breakfast was pancakes, sausage, and eggs, with toast and juice to round it out. Every time he opened a drawer or cabinet or door, he left a sheet of note paper attached to it, labeling what was inside.

_Silverware_

_Baking supplies_

_Plates & Cups & Bowls_

Blaine had just finished labeling the pots and pans when he saw Sebastian was standing by the island, evaluating his work.

"Getting a head start on exploring?" Sebastian asked. There was a platter with sausage and pancakes on the counter closest to the stove, so that Blaine could stack the pancakes as they came off the griddle. Though his tone was deliberately casual, Sebastian’s eyes were intent on the steaming sausages.

Blaine said, "There are only so many times I can look for the measuring cups before I start to go crazy. These will work until I've got the layout down." He put down his pen and paper, and moved back to the stove to check if his pancakes were ready to be flipped. None of them were, but the eggs were almost done, so he turned off the heat and let them settle.

Sebastian came into the room and pried his eyes off the links to look at the coffee maker. Blaine had not yet started the pot, though he had found beans while digging through the fridge for butter.

"No coffee?" Sebastian asked, sadness dripping from every word.

Blaine rolled his eyes and pointed to the fridge with a spatula. "Beans are in there, addict." He liked watching Sebastian, and so split his attention between the griddle and his friend. Sebastian wore yesterday’s jeans and nothing else, and the abs were still on display. Blaine smiled down into his batter.

Sebastian ignored his commentary, and went straight for the coffee beans. Once the percolator was dripping steadily, he turned back to Blaine. "Pancakes," he said, pleased. "And sausage. You're spoiling me." He stole a sausage off the platter and ate it quickly. He always had been a food thief.

Blaine flipped the pancake. "You came all the way out here just to keep me company," he said. "It's the least I can do.”

"I already got ice cream out of this trip," Sebastian mused. "Now pancakes. I may need to move in." Then he stopped speaking, and Blaine had to find his voice.

"Maybe we need to talk?" Blaine finally asked, setting a now cooked pancake on the platter. Sebastian could eat a lot, and so there were a lot of pancakes to be made. He poured more batter on the griddle.

Sebastian sighed, and leaned back against the island. "I don't see why," he said. "We didn't - I didn't let you go because I stopped loving you, B. We were just hurting each other, and ourselves, by what we were doing. It doesn't mean you aren't my best friend."

This was almost exactly what they had said 18 months ago, when they had spoken for the first time in 6 weeks, and only because Anita and Riley had rearranged half their schedules to give them half an hour. Blaine turned his back to the stove and looked at Sebastian, at his earnest eyes and messy hair, and saw the boy he had fallen in love with years ago. He wondered how much of that image was his own memory, and how much was really there.

"I don't want you to be afraid to say things around me," Blaine said, instead.

"Killer," Sebastian said, unmistakably fond. "We slept in the same bed last night. I'm pretty sure you wrapped around me like a limpet. The last thing we need to be worried about is being uncomfortable with each other."

This was probably true. Sebastian was often right, at least about these kinds of things. He saw straight through the emotion and ties that left Blaine reeling and unsure. It was something Blaine had always counted on. He could count on it, again.

"Well, then," Blaine said. "Breakfast is almost ready. Can you heat up the syrup and get us plates?”

* * *

Blaine was a good cook. They had learned together, after they had moved in, because Sebastian wanted to be able to give Blaine breakfast in bed, and Blaine could never tell him no. Sheila, Sebastian’s stepmother, had given them a handwritten book of secret family recipes the first Christmas after they moved in together, and Blaine loved that his cooking had that kind of history attached to it. Blaine had no idea who ended up with the cookbook; he would have to go through his library (if he could ever find the library) and give it back to Sebastian if it had ended up in one of his boxes.

That was the problem when someone else packed up your life and moved you somewhere else. You had no idea where anything ended up.

Blaine brought the platter over to the kitchen table, but Sebastian nodded toward the window.

“It looks gorgeous out,” Sebastian said. “Let’s eat on the patio. We can walk around the house and get some idea where your library is before we see how lost we can get.”

“We are not going to have that much trouble.” Blaine rolled his eyes as they moved out the French doors and onto the closest patio. There was a round metal table and two chairs just waiting for the two of them to sit down and eat at. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the house is mostly windows. How would we get lost?” It was brilliantly sunny and already warm. Sebastian put the plates and silverware and cups down, and found an umbrella to shade their table. Blaine brought out the syrup and juice while Sebastian set it up.

“You have a sunken 2nd floor living room,” Sebastian said, locking the umbrella into place.

Blaine pouted up at him. “How would you know? You’re just working off what I told you. I could be wrong.”

Sebastian laughed. “Dev, you are never wrong. Almost never wrong.”

That was not exactly true, but it also was not something Blaine felt he could argue without having it come up again and bite him in the ass. “Just eat,” he commanded, taking a seat. Sebastian laughed at him, but complied.

Sebastian took his food seriously, and Blaine was content to bask in his friend’s presence while they ate, so the two sat companionably and drank orange juice and devoured blueberry vanilla pancakes while the sun climbed higher in sky. The shadows shrank and faded while they dined.

There had been a lot of mornings like this one. Well, almost like this one. When they had been living in Sebastian’s house, they ate in the backyard by the pool, and Blaine would make Sebastian kiss him as payment for every pancake he devoured. That ended up being a lot of kisses, and a few hours upstairs in their room, or in the pool, or in the kitchen, bodies tangled and both of them laughing with how happy they were. Blaine had not missed it until this moment, because there had been no time for laughing sex and lazy mornings these past few years. It was an unexpected ache.

Blaine pulled himself away from his thoughts to see Sebastian watching him with knowing eyes.

“A little different than before,” Sebastian said.

Blaine nodded. “There are still leftovers,” he agreed. “We _never_ had leftovers, before. Are you feeling alright?”

Sebastian threw a piece of sausage at him.

They finished the dishes and cleanup, and moved upstairs to get ready for the day. It was close to noon and it time for a shower and fresh clothes, since Blaine’s pajamas were covered in flour and batter. Sebastian followed him up two flights of stairs to the bedroom, and Blaine could feel him watching as Blaine knelt by the dresser to sort through clothes.

“I’m sure I have something you can change into,” Blaine explained.

“Just how did you know I didn’t pack a bag?” Sebastian asked, a frown audible in his voice.

Blaine giggled. “You haven’t changed that much,” he said, and crowed triumph at finding a too-big Dalton t-shirt at the bottom of the drawer. It read, _‘Class of 2014,’_ in red letters on a navy background, and was soft with age. Now he needed jeans, or sweats, or shorts. He was confident he had a pair of 32x34s somewhere. It was just a matter of finding them.

“Are you telling me I’m predictable?” Sebastian asked, though he was thinking about something else. Possibly Blaine’s ass, because Sebastian did like to ogle, or maybe lunch, or whether there really was a sunken room on the 2nd floor.

“Only on days that end in Y,” Blaine lied, because Sebastian was the least predictable person he knew. Blaine had figured out Sebastian had forgotten a bag when the man had messed with the thermostat after breakfast, upping the temperature from 68 to 70. If he had a bag, Sebastian would have gone and grabbed a sweater out of it, not played with central air. That was not predictable, that was just knowing someone more than a decade.

“Liar,” Sebastian accused.

Blaine giggled, and spotted a promising pair of jeans. “I never lie,” he lied again, and pulled out the pants. He added a clean pair of boxers to the pile and walked over to Sebastian. He held out the clothing.

Though Sebastian had been teasing just a few moments before, his eyes were now dark with shadows, and his face was pensive.

“Heavy thoughts?” Blaine asked.

Sebastian blinked, and the shadows fell from his face while he refocused on Blaine. He took the clothes out of Blaine’s hands, and started to grin when he saw the t-shirt. “I was thinking about the tattoo,” Sebastian said. “And now I’m thinking about you in nothing but this shirt with the tattoo. Damn, Killer.”

Asshole, Blaine though fondly, feeling his skin flush with pleasure and embarrassment. He poked Sebastian hard in the shoulder and took a step back. “You! You need to go wash up. Stop making me blush and go.”

Sebastian snickered, looked as though he were about to say something further, thought better of it, and headed downstairs to the bath.

What had Sebastian been about to say?

If Sebastian had asked for company, would Blaine have joined him?

No, Blaine thought, though he was not sure at all. He did not look at what clothing he grabbed for himself, just headed into the free bath and thought about music and movies and anything but his ex-boyfriend singing in the shower down the hall:

_Stay._  
_And I'll be loving you for quite some time._  
 _No one else is going to love me, when I get mad, mad, mad._  
 _So I think that it's best if we both stay_

* * *

They met up in Blaine’s bedroom, since it was on the top of the house, and there was quite obviously nothing else on the third floor. Blaine stood in the center of the room and watched Sebastian look around, taking in the emptiness and clean lines. He could tell Sebastian liked it from the smile that hovered on his lips and in his eyes.

“Lots of space,” said Sebastian, the dancer.

Blaine said, “It’s kind of empty of anything.” Aside from the bed, a couple bedside tables and dresser, and a small sitting area with couches and a low table, there was almost nothing in the room. There were no shelves or knickknacks to be found, no art on the walls or plants on the floor. That left a lot of wide open space and hardwood floors patterned by shadows from the overhead lights. The curtains were still covering the windows, and they sealed out any natural light.

Sebastian walked over to the light switch. “Dimmable lights, a place to sit, and a bed. What else do you want in your bedroom?” he asked, running his hands over the panel.

“A television?” Blaine suggested as Sebastian flicked the switch for the curtains. The room slowly flooded with sunshine and the sparkling blue of the ocean, and Sebastian’s face filled with wonder and awe at the sight.

“Holy shit, B,” Sebastian breathed. He took a few steps closer to one of the walls of window. “Who would need a television? This is amazing. This is why this room has nothing in it, this is, this is just….” He trailed off and gestured helplessly.

“It is gorgeous,” Blaine admitted, still looking at Sebastian. It had been a long time since he could just look at Sebastian, could watch the play of emotion on his face, his quick hands and mobile mouth. Sebastian put his big hand on a window. He would leave a mark behind, but Blaine was okay with that.

“This is a door,” Sebastian announced. “That balcony is usable.”

Blaine blinked back to attention, and followed Sebastian out the door and onto a small terrace. There was nothing there except for a staircase that led down the larger terrace one floor down, but there was enough space that Blaine could put out a table and chairs, or maybe a lounge. Sebastian went right up to the safety rail and looked around with wonder on his face. Blaine drew closer to Sebastian, putting an arm around his friend’s waist and feeling content perfectly at peace. Sebastian looked down at him and smiled.

“How the hell did you find this place?” Sebastian asked.

Blaine shrugged and said, “Riley,” and Sebastian took a step back from the rail so he could tug Blaine in front of him. Blaine let himself be moved. It was familiar and warm to have Sebastian pull Blaine against his chest and wrap his arms around Blaine. Blaine felt Sebastian kiss his temple and rest his cheek against Blaine’s curls. Blaine put his own arms over Sebastian’s, securing them together, and leaned back into his friend while they watched the water for a long, long time. There had been a time when this, standing with Sebastian, loving Sebastian, being loved by Sebastian, had been the norm. For the first time, Blaine thought that maybe breaking up had been a mistake, because the last two years of accolades and awards were nothing compared to the warmth of Sebastian’s arms around him.

“I’ve missed you,” Sebastian said, his voice rough and sudden in the peace of the moment. “I’ve missed you more than I thought possible, Blaine Devon.”

Blaine held tighter onto Sebastian. “Me, too,” he whispered, and felt Sebastian fold around him, curl his shoulders over Blaine, as though he could envelop Blaine entirely. He melted into the embrace and held on.

Eventually, they had to move. Blaine led the way back into the bedroom, and toward the staircase the led down to the second floor. He felt cold without Sebastian close, and so reached thoughtlessly for his friend’s hand. Sebastian’s fingers tangled with his and they walked together toward the far end of the second floor on Blaine’s house.

Handholding was ok. They had held hands before, when they were Devon and Sebastian, not BlaineandBas, and Sebastian was always holding onto Blaine. It was okay to not let go.

The second floor was filled with rooms and halls, and had sunny nooks here and there to bring light into the space. There was art in the hallway, but no knickknacks, and all the pieces were cool waterscapes, beaches, and ships at sea. Sebastian whistled low when he saw one of the reproductions.

“Nice painting,” he told Blaine. ”Turner is one of my favorites. My grandfather has an original in his collection.”

Blaine looked at the painting. “I know,” he said, and smiled. “You showed me, remember? I must have mentioned that to Riley half a dozen times, and he was so sick of hearing about you showing off for me. He probably told the decorator how much I liked it.” It was a lovely reproduction, with a ship at sea and the light around it looking like magic.

“I wasn’t showing off,” Sebastian said. “I was just –”

“Showing off,” Blaine teased, because Sebastian had been trying to impress Blaine with _things_ , even though he had never needed to try to impress Blaine. It was probably a good thing Sebastian was not aware of how much he stunned Blaine every minute of every day. Sebastian would have teased him for weeks if he knew he could make Blaine breathless just walking across a room. Blaine squeezed Sebastian’s fingers, and Sebastian smiled at him.

Dazzled, Blaine looked away and down the long hall, and tried to decide where to start. Sebastian tugged him down the hallway before them.

“The house is longest this way,” Sebastian said. “Let’s start farthest away from the stairs.”

Blaine said, “Alright. I think we want to go here, then,” and they continued down the hall and around a corner to an arched opening that separated the last room in the house from the hall.

Through the arch was the library, and Blaine bounced in place. “Found the library!” he said, grinning.

“it wasn’t exactly hidden,” Sebastian pointed out.

Blaine stuck his tongue out at him and dropped Sebastian’s hand so he could explore. Sebastian wandered over to the windows and stared out at the water. Blaine hid a grin and looked around.

The library should have been on a corner, but one end was walled off so only one side of the room was covered in windows. The rest of the space was filled with books. The tall shelves overflowed with hardbacks and paperbacks. Blaine was fairly sure he had not owned this many books before he left for New York, and that the decorator must have done a lot of purchasing to fill the bookcases. There were a couple chairs spaced through the room, and a desk by one wall with a huge book of maps on it. Blaine was tempted to look for his own books, his comics collection, and Sebastian’s cookbook, but he noticed another archway on the far wall. It was where he would have expected another bank of windows to be, so he mentally mapped what he remembered of the first floor to where they stood. He smiled, and crossed the library.

Through the archway, and down four stairs, he found a sunken reading room. There were couches and chairs and a huge television with the latest consoles stored beneath. Here, the two walls of windows he had expected were covered by sheer curtains, which dimmed the afternoon light shining down over the plush carpet. It was a friendly, warm room, and Blaine had a feeling it would be perfect for rainy days when he would rather play video games than be productive. He looked around to tell Sebastian that, but his friend was still in the main library, distracted by the view.

“Sebastian!” Blaine called. “I found the sunken room!”

He heard the sound of Sebastian’s footsteps on the wooden library floor, and then the other man poked his head through the entrance.

“It is sunken,” Sebastian agree, and hopped down into the room. “You should have listened to me. I knew you were right all along.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I think this part over the dining area downstairs,” he said. “I think the ceiling was different, there.”

“Makes sense,” Sebastian agreed, crossing the room to look at one of two racks of bookshelves in the room. “This would be your personal collection,” he said. “I didn’t see Goosebumps on any of the shelves in the main room.”

“I was wondering how long it would take me to find those,” Blaine said, coming to stand next to Sebastian and look at the shelves. “Not just my Goosebumps books. My Dalton yearbooks are in here, too.”

“Really?” Sebastian asked, and ran his fingers along the shelves until he found all four hardbound books. “I can’t believe you still have all these,” he said, and pulled them out. “Yearbooks are lame.”

“I distinctly remember signing yours,” Blaine said, while Sebastian flipped open the book.

Sebastian ignored the quip. “You were so little back then,” he said, looking at a particular picture of Blaine with the mathlete team. “And the glasses didn’t help. You look like you should still be in grammar school.”

“I was the same height as I am now,” Blaine said, pouting.

“Exactly!” Sebastian enthused, as though that proved his point, and leaned over and rested his chin on top of Blaine’s head. Blaine ticked his side, and Sebastian jerked back. “Hey!” Sebastian pouted. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Anderson.”

“I’m not the one with my hands full,” Blaine said, and tickled him again.

Sebastian sputtered and laughed and dropped the books, hunching protectively away from Blaine, while Blaine backed him up against the shelves until Sebastian fell giggling on the floor to try and escape. Blaine followed after him with quick fingers and his own laugh mingling with his friend’s. The other man tried to back away from Blaine, but Blaine threw an arm around Sebastian’s waist to tug the man back and gain enough leverage to sneak his fingers along Sebastian’s stomach.

“I’ll get you for this!” Sebastian gasped out amidst laughter, and flipped Blaine over his hip so Blaine was suddenly pinned by a much bigger body.

Blaine squeaked with surprise, and then Sebastian was getting his revenge, tickling mercilessly up and down Blaine’s stomach while Blaine shrieked and wriggled and begged for mercy, his own words barely intelligible from the force of his giggling.

Eventually, Sebastian took pity on him, and Blaine, sore and aching from mirth, rolled upright and poked his friend hard in the shoulder. “Jerk,” he muttered, though a smile still brightened his face.

Sebastian raised a brow. “You started it!” he accused, putting himself next to Blaine. “I was just looking at your yearbook. You decided to declare ware.”

Blaine said, “I thought I was always right?”

Sebastian dropped his head on Blaine’s shoulder. “Almost always,” he said.

* * *

They spent the hours tucked against each other and the yearbooks, with the sun eventually setting over the ocean, and paused only to heat up a frozen pizza when they realized they had missed dinner. After they finished with the yearbooks, Blaine dug out the scrapbooks he had made over the years and they talked about high school and graduating together and around what it had been like to be so young and in love.

Sebastian had not gone to Dalton until senior year, and his senior portrait was a publicity photo Sheila had sent the school because Sebastian had not been interested in the slightest in making sure there was photographic evidence of his time at the school. Blaine’s own picture had been swapped for a glamour shot, too, but that was because he had some enthusiastic fans in the year book club, and they had vetoed the Cary Grant-esque headshot. Blaine had rather liked the original picture, but his classmates had liked the red leather pants and loose black curls better. His actual senior portrait was in one of the scrapbooks, beside a candid shot of Sebastian bent over his guitar, eyes narrowed as he worked out the melody to a song.

They shared do-you-remembers about those pictures, and found show choir pictures toward the back of the book. Blaine rubbed his thumb over Sebastian smirking over his Regionals trophy.

“You were so smug that you got to join the Warblers,” Blaine said, smiling. Next to the regionals photo, there were candid shots of the 19 Warblers practicing, performing, and goofing off together. In one picture, Sebastian was slow dancing with Blaine. That was from the party after the Regionals win. Sebastian had dragged Blaine with him, whispering teases and bribes in his ear, promising so many things to get Blaine to suffer through hours of being alternatively glared at and schmoozed by Wes. Thad had stolen his camera and taken the picture while Blaine and Sebastian danced.

“I just enjoy working with nobodies and helping them reach their fullest potential,” Sebastian said smoothly. That line was from Anita. The word “nobodies” was from Sebastian.

Blaine giggled and poked Sebastian in the shoulder. “Don’t make me laugh!” he said. “It hurts.”

“Poor Devon,” Sebastian teased, and put his arm around Blaine in mock-sympathy. The heat of his body on Blaine’s pulled Blaine out of his play-sulk, and he reached out and flipped the page to distract himself from Sebastian’s long lines pressed against him.

“Prom!” Sebastian said. “I still cannot believe that I didn’t get asked to sing at prom. Dalton always did love you best.”

“You got to sing!” Blaine pointed out. “And you helped me come up with my setlist. Why are you complaining?”

“I’m not complaining,” Sebastian said with exaggerated patience. “But I bet Dalton is still telling stories about the year they booked Devon as the band.” Sebastian grinned. “Actually, even compared to the years of high school I spent partying, playing, and fucking, instead of going to an actual school, senior year is still my favorite.”

You were the best part of senior year, Blaine thought, because the rest of the time had been stressful, worry about Marina, worry about his career, worry about Sebastian. He said nothing. Sebastian glanced down at him then kissed his forehead in response to whatever he saw on Blaine’s face.

“The first semester was rough,” Sebastian said. “We ended on a high.”

Blaine nodded, but it was not true. The end had been lonely and bitter. Sebastian pulled him closer, and tugged at a curl. “You stopped smiling, B,” he said.

“I just – we were happy, then. I never imagined this,” and Blaine gestured at the room around them, but he meant everything in the last 10 years, “would happen. It’s so different than what I dreamed about in high school.”

“Really?” Sebastian looked surprised. “Opening a show on Broadway, a few more tours, a handful of albums, a New York Times bestselling book – what else did you imagine? Isn’t this everything?”

“I thought,” Blaine swallowed, and tried to look away from Sebastian’s curious eyes, but hiding had never been an option for them. Why did this hurt, now, two years later? He rubbed his hand over the tattoo on his side. “I thought I’d be married.” To you.

Sebastian’s eyes went soft and dark as he looked at Blaine. He said nothing, just cupped Blaine’s cheek in one hand, and Blaine recognized the tender light in Sebastian's eyes, was sure Sebastian recognized the look on his face. Sebastian’s lips parted slightly, and Blaine stared at their curve. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss Sebastian, to ask his best friend to ease the loneliness that had crept up on him yesterday, when he woke up in a huge empty house with no idea where anything was. Blaine let out a breath, and Sebastian slid his hands on Blaine's waist.

"What are we doing?" Blaine whispered, while Sebastian drew him against his body and Blaine wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck. Sebastian fell backwards, and Blaine followed him down, pulled half onto his friend. There were new planes, new muscle, and Blaine had a flash of memory from the night before, when he had slept with his cheek pressed against freckled skin.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten," Sebastian said back, and it took Blaine a moment to realize Sebastian was answering his question. Blaine huffed a laugh and Sebastian's fingers tightened around him, and Blaine settled above Sebastian, propped up on his elbows and staring down into Sebastian’s green eyes.

Blaine should have replied, because this felt good and right, but their relationship was more important. He could put the brakes on what was going to be truly fantastic sex if it would mess things up between them. Really, he could, he thought, as he leaned in to kiss Sebastian.

His phone interrupted him.

It was the most obnoxious jingle ever created, and it broke the moment entirely. Blaine flailed and rolled off of Sebastian, horror filling his veins. Reluctant fingers found his phone, and the caller ID flashed merrily at him.

It was his brother.

"Fucking asshole," Sebastian spat as Blaine came to his knees, proving he knew exactly what had just happened.

Blaine answered the call with a little too much force. "What do you want, Cooper?" he demanded, in lieu of a kinder greeting.

Sebastian was already heading for the six-pack they had brought to the reading room to go with their pizza, which was the best thing he could do. Blaine stood up and walked across the room so he could glare out the window while Cooper babbled cheerfully in his ear.

"Hi Squirt! How's fame treating you? Have you had a chance to look over any of those scripts I sent you?"

Blaine took a steadying breath. "Cooper, its ten at night. I was in the middle of something. What do you want?"

Cooper paused on the phone, and that was the first sign that something was wrong. Cooper was never hesitant, never without words, and his ability to ignore what Blaine said and cheerfully continue talking about anything from the mold in his fridge to his newest big break was legendary. Blaine used to put the phone on speaker, get a bottle of vodka, and take a shot every time Cooper suggested Blaine set him up with an industry meeting. When Sebastian had found out, he had enthusiastically played along, until one night they got so drunk even Sebastian couldn't remember what happened. That had put an end to that game, just to keep them from alcohol poisoning.

"Do you think we could go get some dinner?" Cooper finally said.

Blaine blinked. "Cooper, it's late. You live on the other side of the city. By the time we get somewhere, it will be almost midnight."

"Right, right," Cooper said. "But you're a partier! The late hour means nothing to a star!"

"Cooper," Blaine groaned.

"Okay, how about breakfast?" Cooper asked brightly.

"I've got plans," Blaine lied. He would make plans. Maybe Sebastian would want to do something.

Maybe that was a bad idea, he thought, and shivered with the memory of Sebastian under him.

"Please, Squirt?" Cooper asked, calling him back to the conversation. Asked, not wheedled, whined, or demanded. Blaine felt himself start to weaken. He looked at Sebastian.

Sebastian handed him a beer, emphatically shaking his head. "Don't do it!" he whispered. "Whatever he wants, you’re better off saying no!"

"Blainers, it's important," Cooper said.

Blaine closed his eyes. "Stop calling me stupid nicknames," he said, "And I'll meet you for breakfast. Do you want me to send a driver?"

"No, I'll be fine," Cooper said. "I have a car."

"Okay," Blaine said. "I'll see you at The Columns at 9?"

Cooper hesitated again. "What about 9:30?" he asked.

Blaine swallowed his groan. "Yeah, okay. I'll make reservations. I'll see you tomorrow, Coop."

"Love you, Squirt."

"Cooper!" Blaine cried, but his brother had already hung up.

Blaine put his phone away, and drained his beer on one long draw. “Do we have more?” he asked, putting the bottle down on an end table.

Sebastian offered his own open bottle, but Blaine sighed and shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I won’t take yours. We’re doing breakfast.”

“So I heard,” Sebastian said. “Pushover. You should have told him ‘no.’”

“I know!” Blaine said. “But he was begging and – well, I haven’t seen Cooper in years.”

Sebastian snorted. “Yes, because he sold pictures of you on EBay because he needed money.”

Sebastian did not like Cooper. Most of the time, _Blaine_ did not like Cooper. When Blaine had been 20, Cooper had gone to their family home in Westerville, collected pictures of Blaine recovering from multiple surgeries (his head shaved from when they had needed to get inside his skull, his entire right leg encased in a cast) and half a dozen original song drafts, and sold them for thousands of dollars. No matter how hard Blaine and Riley had tried, they had not recovered everything. Now, you could Google ‘Devon hospital’ and come up with image after image of vulnerable Blaine.

Cooper had not apologized, just said he had thought Blaine would not mind.

Maybe the intervening years had changed things. Things could be different, now. Sebastian had learned how to be a big brother to Marina. Perhaps Cooper had just taken longer.

“I know,” Blaine repeated. He bit his lip. “Come with me?” he asked.

Sebastian looked torn. “I can’t, B,” he said. “I’m picking Marina and her parents up at the airport tomorrow morning.”

Blaine let the thought of Marina, Sheila, and Gilbert in L.A. distract him from tomorrow’s meeting. “Marina’s coming here? Why? And why didn’t you say anything before I kept you out so late!”

“Relax, Killer, it’s barely 10,” Sebastian said, amused. “And we were busy.”

Busy was not quite the word Blaine would have picked. He found himself staring at Sebastian’s mouth again, and dragged his gaze up to his friend’s eyes. “I’ll have to stop in and see her,” Blaine said. “How long is she staying?”

“The summer,” Sebastian said, and looked a little panicked, and a little guilty. “I – her doctor’s thought she was cured a little over a year ago, and there was supposed to be a party, but I was too busy to come home, and she refused to have one without me. Sheila delayed it until now. It was supposed to be next week, since I was still supposed to be in Japan, but – well. Marina.”

Blaine was not sure what to say first, so he started with, “Getting what you want _is_ a Smythe trait.”

“It makes it hard when two Smythes are on opposing sides,” Sebastian said, not even bothering to disagree, and they smiled at each other.

“Why didn’t you take a weekend and go?” Blaine asked. “I’m surprised; it was Marina asking.”

“I was busy,” Sebastian said, but his face closed up, and Blaine drew back, stung from being shut out.

“Oh,” was all Blaine said. He did not ask any of his other questions.

It was awkward for a moment before Sebastian sighed, reached out, and tugged Blaine into a hug. “I should probably head out, now,” Sebastian said. It took a moment for Blaine to let himself accept the hug, and the apology within it. He swallowed hard against the hurt, pushed it down deep, and hugged back.

“Fuck, Blaine,” Sebastian said, and squeezed him too tight. Blaine closed his eyes and let Sebastian hold him while they both buried the words they were not saying. Sebastian cleared his throat. “Sorry we didn’t get much done.”

“Don’t be,” Blaine said, stepping away from him.

“I’ll bring Marina over in a couple days. You can tell me about Cooper, and Marina will possibly want to kill you for not visiting, and also invite you to the party.” Sebastian looked as though he was keeping from saying something further, and it opened up another wound in Blaine. When had Sebastian stopped telling Blaine everything?

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Blaine said.

Maybe at the same time Blaine had stopped asking for everything.


	3. Tuesday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Sebastian, a conversation with Cooper, and a morning for the history books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so [haplessmedstudent](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haplessmedstudent/pseuds/haplessmedstudent) wrote me some lovely comments on my Seblaine fics this week and they made me remember that the next part of this was almost ready for publishing. So if you've been looking forward to a new chapter, 1) sorry for the long wait, hopefully it won't be as long next time, and 2) go thank haplessmedstudent because they're the one that convinced me to track down my flash drive. Thank you!

Morning came far too early. Blaine had spent too much of the night brooding, and aware he was brooding, but unable to stop. He curled up on his bed and stared at the picture of Sebastian on his night stand. When the moon started to set, he got up and went out on the balcony and down to the shore. He dragged a chair onto the sand and spend the rest of the night staring at the waves.

How many times had Sebastian stopped speaking, or Blaine stopped asking, in these last two days of being reunited? Blaine had no idea. More than the last 10 years combined. There had been distance, and Blaine had been lonely, and he had been exasperated and Sebastian had seen that. Had known Blaine well enough to know how badly it hurt.

Blaine had sent a message, _Dammit Sebastian I just need 5 minutes_ , and Sebastian had made time for him. That had been the last time they talked for 18 months.

It had been a Skype call, carefully arranged by Anita and Riley and squeezed between a dance rehearsal and a run-through. Blaine had felt a little chagrinned because he knew the timing was just as bad for Sebastian, but Blaine had needed, and Sebastian had given.

If Sebastian had needed, Blaine would have done the same.

Then it was over, and Blaine could not even blame Sebastian, because every word Sebastian had said: ‘ _I’m so busy, B, and I don’t have enough time for this damn movie, and I want to give every moment I can to you, but I don’t have any_ ,’ had been true for Blaine, as well.

_Blaine had said, ‘I love you, I don’t want to do this.’_

_Sebastian had said, ‘I love you so much, Blaine Devon, and I don’t want to ever stop loving you. We’re hurting each other, and eventually we’ll hate each other, and I don’t want that.’_

_‘You make me happy,’ Blaine whispered, almost crying._

_‘No, I don’t,’ Sebastian said, and that was the truth._

_‘Okay,’ Blaine had said. ‘Okay, okay, yes. Okay. It’s over.’ The tears started to spill, but then he had to go perform, and he could not cry through rehearsal. He swallowed back the tears, and went on stage, and no one had even realized they broke up until Sebastian had an interview 2 weeks later, and he dropped it so casually into the conversation even the woman he was talking to did not notice for a good 30 seconds._

Now, they were different, and not better. Blaine thought he might be better, and Sebastian might be better, but the two of them (Devastation) were still wounded and reeling from a blow that should have healed years ago. They were no longer joined at the hip. It should not hurt that they were no longer anything at all, just a memory and a lingering in Blaine’s veins. And Sebastian’s, too, Blaine remembered, because Sebastian had pulled Blaine down and wanted him. Blaine wanted Sebastian, but he did not want to silences, the uncertainty, and the quiet where there should be confession.

Eventually, the sun rose behind him. Blaine stumbled to his feet and went back inside, took a boiling hot shower in hopes of waking up, and called a cab to take him to the Columns. He had planned to drive himself, but the dark circles under his eyes made him reconsider. It would be best to avoid car accidents.

Blaine was dozing in the back seat of the town car, temple pressed against the cool window, when his phone rang. He debated ignoring the call until he actually looked at his phone. Sebastian’s slight grin flashed cheekily on the caller ID. He might have been upset, exhausted, and confused, but talking to Sebastian was always better than not. Even if they had walked away from each other the night before.

“Hey, Killer,” Sebastian said once Blaine had accepted the call. “We need to talk.”

Blaine’s heart thundered in his chest. Maybe he would have been better off ignoring the call. “I’ve got a meeting with Cooper –” he started to say, but Sebastian interrupted him.

“What is your tattoo?”

It was such a non sequitur that Blaine’s next words jumbled and stuttered in his mouth, and all he managed to say was, “Huh?”

“Your tattoo,” Sebastian repeated. “You’ve never told me what it was. What is it, Devon?”

“I,” Blaine said. “Sebastian, what are you talking about?”

Sebastian took in a deep breath. “You stopped talking to me,” he said. “I mean, we broke up, that’s normal, but you _still aren’t talking to me_. Blaine, we can’t do that. I can’t do that. You’re afraid to say things and hurt me, I think. I know I’m trying not to hurt you.”

Blaine swallowed. He definitely should not have picked up. “Bas,” he said, but could not think of a single thing to say.

Sebastian sounded – frustrated? hurt? Whatever the sound was, it tore at Blaine and he flinched. “Blaine, _please_.”

Blaine had planned to surprise Sebastian with the tattoo while they Skyped one night. It took 4 broken dates and an exasperated text before Sebastian had finally been available. Blaine managed to tell him the tattoo existed before Sebastian cut in with an obviously planned speech to break up with him. After that, telling Sebastian about it would have been cruel to both of them.

“It’s – Sebastian you don’t – Bas, it’s going to hurt you so much.” Blaine stumbled through an explanation. “I’m going to break your heart.”

Sebastian laughed like a glass shattered. Blaine curled up as small as possible in the back seat of the car. His free hand clenched into a fist. His short nails dug into his palm. It did not hurt as much as the sound of Sebastian’s pain.

“We already did that,” Sebastian said.

Blaine blinked away tears. “I’m sorry.”

Sebastian said, “So am I.”

They stayed on the phone, not speaking, for moments that stretched into years.

“It’s a stylized word. Shine,” Blaine finally said, as though the silence had pulled the words out of his chest. _My heart is broken_ , he realized. _My heart is still broken_. Was he telling Sebastian this because Sebastian asked, or because he wanted to make sure Sebastian still loved him enough to break over him? “And there are music notes on a staff in a circle around it. It’s – it’s the melody to the chorus of ‘Jump then Fall.’”

When Sebastian was hurting too badly for words, the air would stick in his throat and he would stand there, not breathing, until Blaine made him start again. On the other end of the line, Sebastian was soundless and breathless, and Blaine did not know how to make it better. If he were there beside Sebastian, he might reach out and touch, hold tight until Sebastian began to breathe again, sharp painful gasps that only Blaine was allowed to see. Words were so hard.

“I missed you,” Blaine tried to explain. “And I was stupid, and impulsive, and I just wanted something of you that was permanent. I thought it would help.”

“I –” Sebastian said. “ _Devon_.”

When they had understood that they were doing nothing but hurting each other, Sebastian had tried to set them free. Blaine had tried to chain them together. Now Sebastian knew. “I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered.

“I – fuck. Blaine, Blaine, don’t –” Sebastian’s words cut off into a garbled ‘oomf’ of air.

“Sebastian!” a girl’s muted soprano voice cried. “You’re finally here!”

“Hey, Superstar, just a second, okay?” Sebastian’s voice was muffled. “Blaine – I –”

The car had stopped, and Blaine looked up enough to see through the window that they were outside the Columns. “I have to go, anyway” he said, putting the pain aside. He was used to it, he realized, and how long had he been bleeding, unaware?

“I’ll be over for dinner,” Sebastian said.

“Se –” Blaine started to decline, but Sebastian barreled on.

“Around 6, okay? I’ll bring take out. Take care, B.” The connection cut, and Blaine lowered his phone to his lap. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was nothing. He could think about Sebastian later.

He refused to think about how that was what he had been telling himself for two years.

* * *

Cooper was already at the restaurant. That was even more shocking than Cooper’s earnest phone call. Also, he also did not leap to his feet, scream out Devon’s same, or enthuse over how close they were. Tradition dictated that Blaine and Cooper’s public meetings end up on TMZ with a picture of Cooper gesturing wildly and Blaine looking stressed and tired. Things were already going better than any other meeting in the last decade. Blaine knew Cooper too well not to be wary of such promising behavior.

“Hey, little brother,” Cooper greeted, standing up from the booth to give Blaine a hug.

Blaine tentatively hugged back. “Cooper,” he returned, and they both sat down.

There were a number of other people in the dining room, but Blaine liked the Columns because the acoustics were perfect for keeping quiet conversations private. There were stylized pillars artistically scattered throughout the dining room that broke up sound, porous walls painted to look like white marble, and amazing souvlaki. Since it was 9:24 in the morning, Blaine would stick with breakfast, instead.

“Have you ordered?” Blaine asked.

Cooper shook his head and stirred absently at the full coffee cup before him. “No,” he said. “I figured – well. I got you a menu!” He grabbed up a menu from the seat beside him, and handed it to Blaine.

Blaine blinked. “Thanks,” he said. “Cooper, what’s wr –”

Their server came and interrupted before Blaine could finish. Blaine ordered coffee, black coffee, the strongest they had, and a Western, while Cooper just said, “Whatever he’s having, that’s fine.” Blaine tried to keep from gaping until the waiter was far enough away.

“Sorry,” Cooper said. “I’m just. Nervous.”

“Cooper, what’s wrong?” Blaine tried again, suddenly too tired to deal with his brother’s games. He and Cooper had been on the same script for the last 8 years, and these sudden deviations were unsettling.

Cooper stopped messing with his drink. “Do you remember when I took those pictures of you and sold them?” he asked

Blaine almost fell out of the booth. “Yes,” he said, instead of, ‘of course I do and I still don’t know what I did to make you hate me that much.’

“It wasn’t because of drugs, or gambling debts, or a mafia hit, or a desperate need to pay for a secret mission to rescue orphans and my true love in Estonia, or whatever you probably thought,” Cooper said, sounding a little bit more like himself.

“Cooper,” Blaine said truthfully. “I never thought you were doing drugs.”

Cooper smiled. “Brothers always know,” he said proudly. Then his smile faltered, and faded, and he said, “I didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want you to hate me for it.”

As far as Blaine knew, Cooper had never even considered that anyone, including Blaine, could help but adore him. He knotted his brow. “Cooper,” Blaine said. “What are you talking about?”

“I have a son,” Cooper said in a rush. “I sold your stuff so I could buy off the mother and keep it from interfering with my life.”

At first, Blaine had no idea what Cooper had said. It was too fast, too slurred, too incomprehensible. Then the words slowed and separated.

“You have a son?” Blaine asked slowly.

“His mother died a couple months ago. I’ve got custody.”

“You – you have a son,” Blaine repeated, because the rest of it was too awful to say out loud.

Cooper had bought off the mother using money from selling Blaine’s private vulnerabilities.

His big brother nodded, blue eyes guilty and beseeching as he looked at Blaine.

“I need to get some air,” Blaine said, and tried to stand.

Cooper grabbed his wrist. “I fucked up,” he said. “But Alex is only 8. He’s just a kid, Blainers, he looks so much like you –”

“Please don’t touch me,” Blaine said, and Cooper dropped his arm. Blaine settled back into the booth. “Why?” Blaine asked.

His brother took a deep breath. “It wasn’t planned. I – Martha was the assistant for a casting agency. I needed a job and things got out of hand and a few months later she contacted me. She wasn’t a very nice woman. I didn’t want to bring her home, or to Mom, and I’m not parent material. So I told her I’d give her $50,000 to raise the baby.”

“Fifty thousand dollars isn’t enough to raise a kid on for 18 years, Cooper!” Blaine said, barely managing to keep from shouting.

Cooper looked down at the table. “She had a habit,” Cooper said. “I knew she’d take it. I got it in writing that she promised not to come after me or my family, and I never saw her again.”

Intellectually, Blaine was aware that Cooper knew how awful the thing he had done had been. If Blaine thought rationally, the last ten years made more sense if Cooper was running from his family and his conscience instead of after his dreams. But he could not think rationally. Blaine could not reconcile it, a baby and a habit, drugs or gambling or something that made a woman willing to take Cooper’s money. And Blaine had been used to fund it.

“I don’t want to hear any more,” Blaine said, standing. He reached into his wallet and left cash on the table for their food and a tip. “I can’t do this. I can’t even look at you.”

He walked away, blinking tears out of his vision, and Cooper called after him.

“I just need you to watch him for a few days while I tell Dad, and Mom.”

Blaine ignored him, and left.

* * *

When Blaine came back to his peninsula, he went inside to box. Then he realized his bag had not been set up, or if it was, he had no idea where, so he pulled on sneakers and went running.

He ran for a long time on the beach, and then went up his drive and toward the mainland. He ran fast and tried to stop hearing Cooper’s and Sebastian’s voices in his ears. Sweat streamed down his face and soaked his shirt and shorts. His socks felt gross. He continued to run. He should have brought music, but he had forgotten in the ache to be doing something. So he ran and hoped the wind would deafen him, ran until his knee throbbed and his chest burned, ran until his arms and legs felt like snapped guitar string. Then he ran longer.

Sweat was pouring down into his eyes and Blaine wiped it away. It threw off his rhythm and caused him to stumble and fall. Blaine went skittering across the gravel and down the sloped grass on the side of the road. The skin of his hands and knees tore like he was a child fallen on the playground, and his hip, thigh, and shoulder bounced with bone bruising force. The pain stung tears back into his eyes, and Blaine wiped harshly at his face. He had not cried for Sebastian. He would not cry for skinned knees.

There was a little boy out there whose mother was dead, and whose father was such a jerk he paid money to keep from being involved in his life. There was a man who could not breathe in the face of Blaine’s selfishness.

Blaine whimpered and choked on his tears and pulled himself to his feet. His knees almost broke under him, and his body hurt so badly he realized he had run for far, far too long. When he tried to start running again, his right leg almost collapsed.

“Fuck,” Blaine said aloud, and then screamed it. He wanted Sebastian with every cell in his body, because even as damaged as they were, Sebastian would make things better.

If he did not look at the oozing wounds and gravel embedded in his skin, and if he took it slow, Blaine found he could start moving. He must look like death, he thought, sweaty and limping and covered in blood and dirt. His eyes felt swollen and hot, though he had not cried, and his cheek was stiff with something – a bruise or blood from his hands, Blaine did not want to know. The road was long and winding and Blaine prayed he was headed the right way.

He was never doing something so stupid again.

It took hours for Blaine to walk home, and he did not manage to climb up the stairs to his bathroom. Instead, he collapsed on the floor of the kitchen to wait for things to stop spinning enough so he could stand back up. He downed two huge glasses of water, and then threw up in the waste basket. That left him feeling just better enough to drag himself upstairs and into the bath before another wave of dizzy-sick consumed him.

Falling asleep in the bath was a mistake. When Blaine awoke, the water was cold, his head ached like the worst hangover he had ever experienced, and the skin of his knees and hands was pruned enough to hold extra tight to the embedded gravel. Climbing out of the tub was a nightmare. Then he had to find the first aid kit. He wished desperately that it would be in one of the cabinets under the sink, and was rewarded with a tiny kit stuffed full of bandages, tweezers, and hydrogen peroxide in the final drawer.

Then he sprawled on the floor and picked gravel out of his hands and knees. Hydrogen peroxide poured directly on the wounds was a new and special agony. Blaine forced himself to breathe deep and slow until he could drag himself upright.

In the mirror over the sink, his mostly clean face showed gravel embedded in one cheek. The one that had been stiff.

Blaine finally broke into tears. Tears burned their way down his cheeks, as the salt mixed with his wounds. Since he was too short to sit on the sink without boosting himself up, he leaned hard on the counter with his bruised hip and brushed his bandaged hands over his cheek until most of the gravel was gone. There were a few stubborn pieces left. Blaine could not hold the tweezers steady enough to get them out. He ended up sticking his head under the faucet until the water washed the wound clean. Without the gravel plugging the cuts, his cheek started to bleed. Blaine then had to rinse the wound in hydrogen peroxide and tape down a bandage before he could count himself finished.

As fixed as he could make himself, Blaine staggered up the stairs to his bedroom, stabbed shakily at wall to close the curtains and turn off the lights, and collapsed into bed and sleep.


End file.
